Highly Inapropriate Use of the Headmistress Office
by H.J. Perry
Summary: Harry Potter and the Highly Inappropriate Use of the Headmistress's Office, When Professor Trelawney produces yet another prophecy, Harry has had enough. Written for the To Die A Virgin challenge on LiveJournal.


Harry Potter and the Highly Inappropriate Use of the Headmistress's Office

Harry had never liked Professor Trelawney. Never. And considering the words that had just come out of her mouth, he now thought that showed uncommonly prescient good sense.

They'd run into her just by chance that evening, wandering tipsily through Hogsmeade while they themselves were on one of their infrequent supply runs. Just because Harry'd never liked her didn't mean he was unaware of the importance of keeping her safe: it meant keeping Voldemort in the dark about the full prophecy.

So with only minimal reluctance he, Ron and Hermione had altered their plans to include escorting the professor up to the castle. For Harry, this reluctance had less to do with the delay or the irritatingly drunken company, and more to do with entering Hogwarts.

Hogwarts was where Ginny was. Would he see her? Should he see her? He didn't know if he could stop himself from seeking her out, once he was there.

Consumed by such thoughts, he hadn't immediately noticed that Professor Trelawney's drunken harangue of Hermione, whom she seemed to have seized on as a sympathetic ear -- much to Ron's amusement -- had shifted tone radically.

It was another prophecy, he realized. Shite.

"—but it cannot be destroyed without a great cost. It demands the sacrifice of a most innocent life, one that has known the touch of neither man nor woman. Only then may the Dark Lord's power be broken." And with that, she collapsed to the ground, and was soon snoring lightly.

The trio stood round her, stunned. Ron was the first to break the silence.

"Harry, mate," he began, "was that—"

"—A prophecy? Yeah, I think so. That was what she sounded like the other time, at least."

"Bloody hell."

Harry turned to Hermione. "Did you catch all that? I missed the beginning."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. She was definitely talking about" – she lowered her voice – "the cup. She said 'the fifth is now in your grasp, but it—"

"—can only be destroyed at a great cost. That's the part I heard," Harry said.

"What do you reckon it means?" Ron asked.

Hermione bit her lip. "It seems pretty straightforward, as prophecies go. The Horcrux in the cup can only be destroyed at the cost of the life of someone who has been touched by neither man nor woman." She blushed faintly. "Riddle must've put an additional curse on this one."

"Someone who's never been touched by anyone? How the hell are we supposed to find anyone who fits that description?"

Hermione blushed again. "I don't think it means touched at all, Ron. Just … in a particular way."

Ron gave her a blank look.

Hermione huffed. "Honestly, Ron. It means a virgin! We have to sacrifice a virgin to destroy the fifth Horcrux!"

Ron's jaw dropped. "Shite."

"You can say that again, mate," Harry put in. "Where are we going to find a virgin on short notice?" he joked, and immediately wished he hadn't. Both his friends turned to look at him, their expressions partly pitying, partly … smug?

"What?" he blurted defensively.

"Nothing, Harry," Hermione answered as Ron turned slightly red.

"I mean, we're not sacrificing one of us," Harry asserted, then flushed when he realized what he'd just admitted, then set his jaw firmly. It was nothing to be embarrassed by, really. Weren't they all in the same boat?

"Of course not," Hermione replied, looking shifty. Ron went all the way red and refused to meet Harry's eye as he shook his head.

Harry was momentarily puzzled by their reactions, but when understanding dawned, he went nearly as red as Ron, though in his case embarrassment was mixed with a keen rush of resentment. He was still a virgin, but if he read the situation right, neither Hermione nor Ron was any longer. Harry glared at his best mate. Ron hadn't even told him.

Ron shifted uncomfortably, but before he could say anything, Harry spoke. "I can't believe you two." What kind of friends kept something that important from you?

Hermione blanched; clearly she was offended. Taking a few deep breaths, she began in her most reasonable tone, "Harry, I understand that you may need some time to process our new relationship, but—"

Strangely, though all Harry wanted was for them to have told him about this earlier, now that he knew, he didn't want to talk about it. "Just shut it and leave me alone, okay, Hermione?" he interrupted and, leaving his friends to deal with the unconscious Divination professor, he turned on his heels and stomped off toward the Hogwarts grounds.

Bloody Ron. Bloody Hermione. Bloody Ron-and-Hermione. When had they even found time to -- he was never insisting on going off alone again. He'd known their feelings for each other would make things weird, sooner or later. He just hadn't counted on another stupid prophecy forcing him to deal with it all when he'd rather just not know.

And Ron…the hypocrite. Shagging Hermione, when Harry had seen him nearly call his own sister a slag for much less? His overprotective big brother routine had had Harry afraid to kiss Ginny for awhile, let alone—

Ginny. Harry paused. He'd headed towards Hogwarts in a snit, certain that Hermione and Ron would follow, Mobilicorpused Trelawney in tow. He'd thought no further ahead than that. Now, however, he could see that Ron and Hermione weren't following; they were right where he'd left them, apparently in the midst of yet another row. He snorted. At least that hadn't changed.

Harry forged ahead with new enthusiasm. Maybe Ron and Hermione didn't have to worry about this stupid virgin sacrifice, and since he was The Boy Who Lived they couldn't possibly sacrifice him no matter how ridiculously inexperienced he was, but Ginny had no such guarantees. It would be remiss of him, after he'd promised himself he'd do anything to protect her, to leave her vulnerable to this farce of a prophecy. Especially when anything was, well, sex.

As he made his way through the gates and the grounds to the castle entrance, Harry attempted to come up with persuasive argument to use on Ginny, once he found her. She'd taken 'I have to break up with you for your own safety' about as well as she could, but 'Surprise! I have to shag you for your own safety' would be a stretch.

Probably the 'Surprise!' aspect, more than anything, would be the problem. Harry hadn't even dared to contact Ginny in months for fear he'd break down and ask to see her, when he needed to stay strong and keep her away from Voldemort. To suddenly show up and insist on not just picking up where they'd left off, but on shagging ASAP, would probably just hack her off.

Now, if this were one of those terrible books Aunt Petunia read (that is, when she read books at all), his sudden appearance at Hogwarts and insistence on what those books would call 'one night of passion' would sweep Ginny off her feet immediately, as she was carried away by the depth of her feelings for him (and also his dashing, brooding good looks). But Harry knew Ginny, and it wouldn't work that way in real life. And he wasn't nearly dashing enough, he suspected. You needed neater hair to be dashing.

He'd have to hope she would be glad to see him, and not resentful of his long silence or insistence on sheltering her from what he and Ron and Hermione were doing. If she were in a good mood, it would make the whole thing easier, obviously. Then he'd have to explain the new prophecy, without mentioning what exactly 'the fifth' was or otherwise compromising the secrecy of the Horcrux hunt. He figured it would be better to explain why he was back and wanting to, um, be with her than to simply press his luck.

As for the rest, well, Harry was so busy running through different scenarios of how he'd convince Ginny to make love to him before following them through to their logical conclusion, that he was utterly shocked when -- just inside the castle entrance -- he walked straight into Minerva McGonagall.

Harry jumped back in shock, his lustful reverie shattered. "P-Professor McGonagall," he blurted.

"Mr. Potter," she replied, fixing him with a particularly uncomfortable stare, "what a surprise to see you here at Hogwarts."

Harry winced. If anything, McGonagall had taken their failure to return to Hogwarts even worse than Molly Weasley, sending Ron and Harry Howlers and Hermione a less noisy letter which was somehow even more frightening.

"I came down to meet you as soon as the castle's wards alerted me to your presence," McGonagall said with a sniff. "I assume you are here on some urgent business?"

"Urgent, yes. Very urgent," Harry answered distractedly, grateful that her intimidating presence meant that the evidence of the urgency he was feeling had disappeared.

He also realized he was in a sticky situation, and not the one he'd wanted to find himself in at all: now that McGonagall had him cornered, he would have to tell her about the new prophecy, but after he had, he could hardly just say 'So if you'll excuse me, I have to go sneak into Ginny Weasley's dorm somehow' to the Hogwarts Headmistress.

"Is someone injured? Where are Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley?"

"No, no, they're fine. It's nothing to do with them. Actually, it's about—Ginny!" he gasped, as the very girl he'd been looking for descended the stairs into the entrance hall, tucking a piece of parchment into a pocket. Of course. She had the Marauders' Map, so she'd known he was in the castle.

"Miss Weasley?" McGonagall inquired, then turned to see what Harry was gaping at. "Miss Weasley! What are you doing out of your dorm at this hour?"

Harry couldn't take his eyes off Ginny as she approached. She was still in her uniform and robes, though she had taken off her tie and unbuttoned the top of her blouse. Memories of "studying" with Ginny last year, of unbuttoning that blouse even further, flooded into Harry's mind.

"Sorry, Professor," Ginny said demurely. "I saw Harry from the tower window and I was worried, so I didn't think, I just rushed down here."

McGonagall's expression softened a little with concern. "Understandable, Miss Weasley. In the future, do keep in mind that I would, of course, summon you if I had any news which concerned you. Which Mr. Potter's news apparently does, is that right?" She turned to Harry.

"Er, yes." Harry flashed Ginny a small smile, still worried about whether she was angry at him. Sure, she'd rushed to see what was wrong, but Ron was her brother, after all, and he, Harry, was just her ex-boyfriend. Maybe she wasn't concerned about him at all.

But then Ginny smiled back, and relief flooded Harry, making him feel weak at the knees. Or perhaps that wasn't relief, but nerves? After all, if Ginny wasn't angry with him, then he was about to- they were going to- Well, if he could figure out some way to get McGonagall to leave them alone.

He and Ginny must've spent a little too long smiling at each other (Well, Ginny was smiling. Harry was grinning goofily, if he had to be honest), because Professor McGonagall coughed impatiently. "Well, Potter, what is it? Spit it out."

"Um," Harry said eloquently, trying to play for time.

"Professor McGonagall," Ginny interrupted, "Maybe the entrance hall isn't the best place for Harry to talk about it?"

Harry smiled at her again, this time in gratitude, when McGonagall responded, "Of course, how negligent of me. Come along to my office, then. We'll hear your news there, Potter."

Harry and Ginny fell in side-by-side behind McGonagall, trailing her by several paces. "Hi, Harry," Ginny tentatively began.

"Hi," Harry replied, nearly choking at the inadequacy of that response. "Listen, Ginny," he quickly continued, eager to fill the silence, "everyone's fine, Ron and Hermione are just down in Hogsmeade. We're all okay."

Ginny looked relieved but puzzled. "Then why are you here, Harry? As soon as I saw you on the Map, I was sure something was wrong."

"I can't—" Harry dropped his voice even further and whispered, "Listen, I'll explain later, okay? Just – I need to talk to you without McGonagall around, so whatever I say, please just go along with it?"

Ginny gave him a cryptic look. "All right, Harry. Whatever you say."

They had arrived at the entrance to Dumbledore's – McGonagall's, Harry had to remind himself – office, and stood quietly while McGonagall gave the password to the gargoyle. ('Jaffa Cakes,' which Harry supposed was McGonagall's way of honoring Dumbledore's fondness for Muggle sweets and her own for biscuits.)

As the staircase took them up to the office, Harry nervously addressed the headmistress. "Professor McGonagall, um, I was hoping I could speak with Ginny alone first. If-if you don't mind."

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter? For what reason?"

"The – the thing I have to tell her, and you, both of you, it's- it's kind of personal. So—" Harry blushed beet red as McGonagall regarded him suspiciously, but he met her eye, thankful that she wasn't a Legilimens. As far as he knew.

"This urgent matter is personal, then?" She arched one brow.

"There's a personal aspect." He figured he should probably give her some concrete information. "It's a new prophecy."

"A new prophecy? To do with You-Know-Who?"

"Yes."

"With a personal aspect that pertains to Miss Weasley?"

Harry tried not to look guilty. It was true, wasn't it? "Yes."

"Well, all right, then. But make it quick, Mr. Potter." Harry gulped nervously at that. He supposed he'd have to. "I'll need to Floo Alastor Moody and Remus Lupin – I think they'll want to hear this. I shall do so from the staff room, and return in fifteen minutes time. Will that suffice for you and Miss Weasley to chat?"

I hope so. "Yeah. Thanks, Professor."

When McGonagall had shut the door to the office behind her, Ginny swiftly turned to Harry. "A prophecy about Voldemort and me? Really, or were you just saying that?"

"Well." Harry shifted nervously from foot to foot. Now that he had Ginny alone, he was beginning to have serious doubts that this would work. "There is a prophecy, and it does have to do with Voldemort."

"But not me?"

"Not if I can help it," Harry asserted. He took a deep breath. "Ron and Hermione and I just ran into Trelawney in Hogsmeade."

"You were in Hogsmeade?"

"We were just stopping in for supplies. We weren't going to stay long. Anyway, Trelawney made another prophecy."

"Another one? That old fraud isn't as much of a fraud as she seems, eh?"

"I guess not," Harry replied. "Now, I can't tell you all the details because it has to do with things I'm not telling you for your own safety—" Ginny snorted at that "—but basically, what it all comes down to is, we, uh, have to sacrifice a virgin to defeat Voldemort," he finished up quickly. Only thirteen minutes left.

Ginny took a few moments to process all this. "You have to-- what?"

"Sacrifice a virgin," Harry confirmed.

"And this has to do with me—" Understanding dawned on her face. "Harry Potter! You don't owl me for months, and then show up at Hogwarts expecting to shag me?"

"Expecting to save you from being killed," Harry countered.

"By shagging me."

"Right," he acknowledged.

She stared at him, gobsmacked. Well, she wasn't laughing at him, so he pressed on. "If – if you want to, we only have eleven minutes left until McGonagall gets back." Well, that was suave. This wasn't going very well at all.

He hadn't thought she could look more shocked, but she did. "You want to-- here? Now? In McGonagall's office?"

"Yeah." He took a few steps towards her. If they were going to do this, and so far she hadn't said no, he should probably start kissing her soon. "I want you ineligible for this stupid sacrifice before anyone else knows about it."

"Is that what Ron and Hermione are up to? Making each other 'ineligible'?" She gave him a sly grin at that, and didn't back away as he put his arms around her.

"Apparently they had already taken care of that," he muttered.

"Oh, poor Harry. Feeling left out, were you?" she teased, snuggling up against him.

"Not left out, exactly. Listen, are we doing this?"

"Well, I don't know. Ten minutes on a desk in McGonagall's office wasn't exactly how I pictured our first time together."

"Is that a 'no'?" Harry asked disappointedly.

"Consider it an invitation to persuade me," Ginny answered, tilting her head back to look at him.

"Oh. Oh." Harry took the hint and kissed her, starting slowly and gently, trying to hold back but almost immediately overwhelmed by both the urgency of the situation and the intensity of how much he had missed doing this – being near Ginny, smelling her, touching her, tasting her. And if he had to guess, he'd say she'd missed it, too, because she was snogging him just as enthusiastically and frantically in return.

Harry quickly insinuated his hand up under her blouse, suppressing a groan of disappointment when she pulled away from the kiss. He couldn't help but groan for a different reason, though, when Ginny placed a firm hand over his erection and started rubbing him through his trousers.

"I see you're fully in favor of this plan," she teased.

Harry leaned in, desperate to kiss her again, pressing her towards the enormous desk which dominated the room. "You aren't?"

"Well, it is kind of exciting. Shagging on McGonagall's desk, the thrill of knowing she could come back at any time…"

"So is that a yes?"

"Hell yes." She perched herself on one edge of McGonagall's desk, and, as Harry watched and wondered if this was merely the most vivid of the dozens of dreams he'd had of Ginny since the Horcrux hunt began, pulled her panties out from under her skirt and tossed them on the floor. "What are you waiting for?"

Harry in fact hadn't waited, but had lunged towards her almost as soon as the panties hit the floor, unable to think coherently about anything besides shagging her as soon as possible. His mouth met hers with such force that their teeth struck painfully, but he was beyond apologizing for his awkwardness.

"God, Ginny, you're so – fucking – hot," he gasped out as he kissed and nibbled his way down her neck, while his fingers fumbled at the buttons her blouse.

Her fingers joined his, not hurrying his attempts to expose her breasts so much as complicating them. He pulled her bra out of the way, too impatient to suck at those perfect, pale pink nipples to fumble with the always-impossible catch.

She moaned deep in her throat as his tongue tended first one breast, then the other. Sooner than he would've thought possible, she was guiding his hand under her skirt, whispering into his ear, "I think I'm ready."

Harry gulped at the warmth and wetness of that place he hadn't touched before, even in their most adventurous 'walks by the lake.' "Oh god, Ginny, you're already so wet," he moaned, sliding a finger into her and watching wide-eyed as she gasped in response.

He reluctantly withdrew his hand to fumble at his fly, while Ginny let out a little whine of disappointment. "Listen, Ginny," he began, "is there something we should be doing – some spell or something – to, uh, to keep you from—"

"—getting pregnant?" He nodded. "I take a potion for that. Are you ready?" she asked, reaching again for his cock, now no longer frustratingly covered by layers of clothing.

Harry felt like his legs might give way under him at the touch. "Are you?" he answered, gritting his teeth and hoping he didn't come before he even had a chance to feel Ginny.

She met his eyes, and strangely, Harry found the mixture of lust, affection and nerves he found there more reassuring than a more confident gaze would have been; her feelings perfectly matched his own. "As ready as I'll ever be," she replied.

There was quite a bit of fumbling as they tried to find a position on the desk. Harry wasn't quite tall enough to enter Ginny while standing with her sitting on the edge of the desk, much to his chagrin, and the angle seemed to be all wrong anyway. Ultimately, Harry carefully moved McGonagall's marking off the desk and got on top of it along with Ginny.

"Ginny," Harry warned, certain that he wouldn't be able to last more than moments and worried that he was about to disappoint her, "I'm not going to last very long."

"We haven't got long," she replied, but Harry still hesitated nervously. "Tell you what," she added, once again grabbing his cock and guiding it so that the tip was poised at her opening, "as soon as you defeat Voldemort, come find me and we'll Apparate away to someplace secluded and shag for a week straight and you can make it up to me then. For now, just stop worrying and fuck me."

Needing no further encouragement, Harry thrust in, and immediately held himself perfectly still as Ginny's face screwed up in … pain?

"Fuck, Ginny, did I do something wrong? I should've gone slowly, I'm so sorry."

"No use in dragging it out," Ginny replied, flashing a smile at him. "It was only for a second-- go on." She grasped one of his hands encouragingly.

Harry thrust in and out more slowly now, overwhelmed by the new sensation of tightness and wetness surrounding what felt like, at this moment, the focus of his existence. "Ginny – love – I won't last much longer—"

"—I know, Harry. It's okay," she murmured.

"So – bloody – sexy," he grunted, before moving in for one last kiss and surrendering to an orgasm so intense he wondered how he would ever go back to the pale substitute of wanking.

He lay still against Ginny for a few moments, exhausted and unfocused, until she started to shift restlessly beneath him. Immediately guilt surged once again to the forefront of his mind. "Crap, Ginny, you didn't get to –I'm sorry it wasn't any good for you." He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes.

She swatted him on the shoulder, gingerly pulling back to sit up so he slipped from inside her. "Don't be ridiculous, Harry. This was good for me. Maybe I didn't come, but just doing it – and with you - was exciting, and I want to do it again as soon as possible. Besides, now you owe me. But now's not the time for this; McGonagall could get back any second, and we need to clean up."

In a flash, Harry leapt down from the desk. While Ginny muttered a quick 'Scourgify' at the mess they'd made on the desk, he plucked her panties from the floor, but instead of handing them back to her, he said, "Hey, d'you mind if I keep these?"

"A souvenir, Harry?" she inquired teasingly. "But how will you explain them to Ron?"

"Hopefully he'll never find out I have them," he answered, pulling up his trousers and shoving them in the pocket as Ginny straightened her clothes and a knock rang through the office, followed by McGonagall's voice calling, "I trust you're ready for us, Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley?"

Harry had only just finished zipping up his fly and collapsed onto a chair when McGonagall entered the room, trailed by Mad-Eye Moody and Professor Lupin. She eyed the two flushed and tousled students before her dubiously. Harry and Ginny tried valiantly to look innocent.

"Ahem," coughed Moody from behind her. "What's all this about then, Potter?"

Harry cleared his throat, still a bit disoriented. "Well, Ron, Hermione and I ran into Professor Trelawney in Hogsmeade."

"Sybil was out wandering again?" Professor McGonagall interrupted. "I swear, no matter how many times I speak with her—"

"—Ron and Hermione should be bringing her back to the castle now, don't worry. Anyway, she gave another prophecy, like she did my third year about Wormtail."

"What did she say, Harry?" Remus asked.

"Um, well, you see, there's this thing of Voldemort's that we have – I can't tell you exactly what – and she said that to destroy it – and it has to be destroyed – would demand 'the sacrifice of a most innocent life, one that has known the touch of neither man nor woman. Only then may the Dark Lord's power be broken,'" he quoted.

Moody's face was as indecipherable as usual when he said, "So what you're telling us, Potter, is we have to sacrifice a virgin to defeat You-Know-Who?"

"Um. Yeah. I mean, that's what Hermione said it meant," Harry mumbled.

"Miss Granger, as usual, seems to be right," Remus said with a smile.

Remus's gentle humor, however, was immediately dispelled by McGonagall's angry shout. "Mr. Potter! Miss Weasley!"

Uh-oh, thought Harry. He put on his most innocent expression. "What is it, Professor?" Harry asked.

"You know what it is, Potter," she tersely replied. "You insisted upon talking to Miss Weasley alone because there was, and I quote, 'a personal aspect to the prophecy.' Now I know that teenaged males such as yourself are often controlled by their baser impulses, but the disrespect you showed to me and this office in doing," she paused, "what you and Miss Weasley just did – and don't try to deny it, we're not fools – is insupportable. I am ashamed of you, Harry. Since you are not currently enrolled at Hogwarts, I am afraid that disappointment must be punishment enough."

Harry wanted to sink into the floor as he was subjected to the brunt of McGonagall's anger. Where was his Invisibility Cloak when he needed it?

"But you, Miss Weasley, are still a student of this school. Three weeks' detention, and I will be owling your mother immediately about this matter. I am sure she will be appropriately scandalized at your outrageous behavior!"

Ginny went pale at the threat, but kept up a brave façade, merely nodding at this dire news.

McGonagall snorted disgustedly. "Both of you, out of my office! Mr. Filch will escort Harry off the grounds immediately. He may return tomorrow with Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley to discuss this new development, by which I mean the prophecy, which does, I hope, actually exist, Mr. Potter?"

Harry, too, simply nodded, chastened. He got up and, taking Ginny by the hand, headed for the door under McGonagall's stern gaze.

As he reached for the doorknob, though, Professor Lupin caught his eye and gave him a wink and a grin. "Your father would be proud, Harry," he told him.

Harry couldn't help but grin back at that, while a shocked McGonagall hissed, "Remus! Don't encourage the boy!"

As soon as Harry and Ginny were out the door, Moody and Remus broke down into gales of howling laughter.

Minerva sniffed. "It's all well and good for you two to laugh. Your desk doesn't need the strongest Scourgify possible applied to it." 


End file.
